It’s one of those days.
You know the kind? One of those days when—for no apparent reason—the world looks bleak. We wake up and something’s different. Some dial inside us that should be turned to high is stuck at low. We recognize the heaviness of heart and lack of motivation. Yet here is the day. We can move through it in survival mode, or we can live it. At least we can try.
The living is in the effort we expend.
Help. We give it. We need it. Some days more than others.
My routine offers comfort. The water cooperates; I hear it bubbling. Steam fills the empty air with the strong scent of Earl Grey. I brew it longer. Darker. Add extra sugar with the milk.
I open the blinds to sunshine I don’t feel, so I go out into it, carrying the flowered china mug, the special one I reserve for celebrations. Walking, sipping, I realize plants are still growing, the air is still morning-fragrant, the sky is still up, the earth—black soil and green grass—is still down.
Strange to see the day, watch it unfold, without sensing its energy. But seeing is believing, I tell myself, and I feel myself agree.
Here is the day. Hard perhaps, but the one I am given. I can survive it or I can live it. Starting—that’s the hardest. So I lift my mug and celebrate this beginning. I thank the Lord who created water to boil and tea to brew and fragrant daylight and solid ground. I promise to make good use of them.
“Move forward and see what happens.” My day. My effort. My choice.
Thank You, Father, for reminding me once again that I do not have to face today, or any day, alone. You are light in darkness, power in weakness, comfort in sadness. May I claim Your promise for this day and use it to Your purpose and Your glory.
“I lift up my eyes to the hills—where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip—he who watches over you will not slumber….” (Ps. 121:1-3 NIV)